Past and Present Collide
by 3iris
Summary: Booth and a former lover of Brennan's try to keep a traumatic experience from her past from repeating itself. Is this Booth and Brennan's chance to put the past behind them so it can no longer influence their present and future? Sequel to 'Thunder'.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is a sequel. You will have questions if you don't read _"Thunder"_ first.**

Dr. Temperance Brennan stood at the door studying the face of Special Agent Seeley Booth. She determined immediately that something was really wrong. She came to this conclusion because, first of all, he never knocked anymore, and second, he was pale and sweating and his normally soft brown eyes were the color of coffee grounds.

She found herself reacting to his obvious distress, her heart rate accelerating. "What happened?"

He cleared his throat, speaking for the first time since she answered the knock at her door. "I need to talk to you, to show you something." He looked down, away from her intense blue gaze, to the padded envelope in his hands.

"What is it? You are worrying me." She stepped out of the way, wishing he would have just barged in as usual, kissed her softly on the cheek, threw his keys on the table, and grabbed a beer from the refrigerator. Instead, he trudged past her, raking a hand through his hair, standing two feet inside the door. "Is Parker OK?" She couldn't think of anything else that would illicit this type of reaction from him. She noticed the envelopes in his hand for the first time. "What is that?"

He looked at the envelopes again with dread, reminded of the unwanted appendage that he had been carrying around for the past several hours. "I don't want to do this. I don't know how to show you these. I don't even want to think what the implications are." He sighed and with resignation, opened the smaller envelope, and laid it's contents carefully on her sofa table.

She followed him to the table and stood next to him while he upacked the plastic bagged photos. She was confused, but let out an audible sigh of momentary relief as she realized what he had laid out in front of her. "You really had me scared. Photographs....of me and Blake? Where did you get these?" Her voice was thick with concern and confusion.

Her thoughts drifted back instantly to all the times Blake took her picture, or their picture together. He had hundreds of them, thousands probably. Photography was his second love, next to music. There was something different about these photos. They were rough, candid. Blake did not take them, and he would not send them, not to her, and definitely not to Booth. They had all come to an understanding. She and Blake were over. She was happy with Booth. Blake would step back and be happy for her, for both of them. She was jolted back to the present with Booth's voice.

He touched the first photograph. "This one was slid under my door sometime last night or early this morning. This one was on the windshield of my car, and this one was mailed to my office."

She looked over his shoulder at the pictures again. The first one was of her laughing and looking up at Blake, who was standing behind her with his arms wrapped around her middle. The second was of Blake relaxing on the couch with Brennan laying down, her head in his lap, him absently playing with her hair. Blake and Brennan in bed sleeping, her head resting on his bare chest, her bandaged wrist laying over his ribs.

She picked up the first two again, a cold fist squeezing around her heart. She realized the exact day it was taken... the day they were all taken. Her eyes widened as she looked up at him. He hadn't said anything or asked any questions. Was he expecting an explanation? Did he think these were hers? Did he think they were recent? Why would Blake, or anyone else, send photos of that night? Her mind was reeling with questions. Her mouth was dry, and instead of forming some kind of relevant explanation, she found herself on the verge of tears, and panic welling up in her gut. "I don't understand."

"I don't either. The only explanation I can come up with scares the hell out of me. Especially when I factor in what is in the other envelope."

**A/N2: I warned you... You are probably wondering, "Who the hell is Blake?" Read _Thunder_ and you will know.**


	2. Chapter 2

"Does anyone know where Booth or Dr. Brennan are? Neither are answering their cell phones." Cam swept onto the platform, waiting impatiently for an update from Angela or Hodgins.

Hodgins didn't bother to look up from the particulates he was studying on a piece of fabric. "Out. . . with Sweets I think."

Angela added, "Maybe he finally convinced them to turn off their phones during their little talks."

"I have a situation here, people. One of you need to find them." Cam stopped, frozen. "What is that?"

He followed her line of vision to the garment sitting on the end of the table in front of Hodgins. "Panties. . ."

Angela stepped between them. "Actually, they are pajama pants, and I swear, they are not mine."

Hodgins quickly added, "No. . . No, this is work."

"Where did they come from?"

He looked at her suspiciously. "It was in a baggie, in the pile that Booth left last night. There are fluids, blood. I was just taking. . . Why are you asking?"

"Just put them back in the bag, carefully."

He looked at Angela, and did as he was told. They both noticed Cam pause, before she picked up the bag, hands shaking. Angela touched her arm, smiling. "What's going on, Cam? Are you OK? You seem a little freaked out."

"I am going to be out for a while. Call me if you hear from either of them."

Hodgins and Angela shared a look. "Why do I feel like I need to wash my hands, even though I was wearing gloves?"

Cam pulled into the garage at the FBI building, turned off the engine, and sat motionless, holding the envelope in her hands. Reluctantly, she got out of her car, and started for Sweets office. Neither of them were paying attention, and collided as their paths crossed near the elevator. Booth grabbed her shoulders, stabilizing her, and was surprised to see who it was. "Sorry, I wasn't watching. . . . Cam? What are you doing here?"

"Where is Dr. Brennan?" She clutched the envelope tighter in her hand.

"Having lunch with Max. I am meeting up with her later. I have some things to do. What's going on?"

"We need to talk. . . in your office?"

She followed him down the hallway, and to his desk. "Sit. I have something to show you."

"Are you ok?" He looked at the envelope clutched in her white knuckled fingers, and said, half joking, "If you are going to show me more pictures. . . "

Her head snapped up, and her eyes went wide. "You were sent pictures?"

"You've got to be kidding me." He sat down, and leaned his elbows on his desk, making a vague motion for her to take a seat. "What now?"

She put the envelope on his desk, laying her hand on top of it. "You first. I can't imagine they are worse than what is in here."

He reached into his jacket pocket, and handed her the three bagged pictures.

"Blake again. He has a way of popping in on you two when you least expect it." She looked up at him, trying to gauge his mood. "You know she's not. . . they are not. . ."

"I know, Cam. I just can't figure out what would be gained by sending me old pictures. I already knew about their past."

"I am afraid this is definitely not going to set your mind at ease." She handed him the envelope of photographs. "These are really bad. Just. . . be prepared."

She watched him as he flipped through the 8x10 black and white photographs. There were three, each one worse than the last. She watched the color drain from his face. He placed the photos back on his desk, his hands shaking so badly he could not hold on to them any longer. He pounded his fist on his desk, letting loose a string of expletives.

Cam jumped, startled by the sudden shattering of the silence that was hanging in the room. "Seeley, I am sorry."

"These were sent to you, at the Jeffersonian?" He was struggling to regain some of his composure.

"I was planning on showing you both together. I thought you should be involved." She hesitated, knowing what was in the other envelope was too much.

He watched her steadily, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. "There's something else." It wasn't a question. He could feel it's weight in the room.

"Something I just noticed, and something I noticed earlier at the lab." She laid out all six pictures. "Look at her right hand. She is wearing a bandage in all of them."

"They were all taken the same day." He swallowed hard, looking away from the photos again.

"Look at these three." She pointed to the pajama shorts that were barely visible in each of the black and white photos.

"So she is wearing the same panties. We just said it was the same day."

"Pajama shorts. They are pajama shorts." She pointed to one of Booth's photos, the third one that was left on his desk just a few hours ago. "Look at them here, in color."

"OK. . . ."

She took out the evidence bag with the shorts in it, and sat it next to the photo. "Do they look the same to you?"

"Where in the hell did you get those?" He felt like somebody had punched him in the stomach, and all of the air was escaping like a slow leak in a deflating balloon. His ears were ringing, and he knew if he tried to stand on his legs, they would not support him.

"They were left on Hodgins desk, bagged just like this, along with some of the new stuff you gave him yesterday. He thought it was pertaining to our current case."

"What did he find?"

"Seeley, you know what he found. . . ." He just stared at her. "I made him stop when I realized. . . , but he mentioned that there were fluids, blood." He was collecting everything and putting it back in the envelopes when she placed her hand on his. "You need to get a grip before you take this to her. You knew all of this. It's nothing new. We need to focus on the present. What does it mean now?"

"I can not do this to her." He didn't have to look at the pictures. They were etched in his memory. He would never get those images out of his head. "It may have been five years ago, but it's still not completely in the past for her."

"You have to tell her. She will kick your ass and mine if she knows everybody knows but her."

**A/N: Thanks for reading everyone! How do you like that? A Cam chapter! Remember when we all used to hate her? I really like her now. I hope this wasn't too confusing...backing up in time a bit. Hmmmm, lots of story alerts but one lonely little review. Is that good or bad? The next chapter will be up soon!**


	3. Chapter 3

Brennan stole a nervous glance at the larger envelope sitting next to Booth on the floor, and took notice of his tense posture and the vein throbbing at his temple. She stood up, and brushed past him, away from palpable tension in the room, and away from the mysterious contents of that envelope. "Let's not do this now." She wouldn't admit it, but she was afraid of the contents of that envelope, especially if it had anything to do with what the photos sent to Booth were leading up to. "It's been a long day. Can we just not deal with any more surprises today?" Her voice was desperate, almost pleading. She went into the kitchen, leaving Booth sitting on the couch, contemplating what to do. Her voice drifted in from the next room. "You never showed up for lunch with my father this afternoon."

Booth leaned forward, scrubbing his hands over his face. "Something came up."

She went on to tell him about their lunch, and the latest news about Russ and his new family. He followed her voice into the kitchen, and found her pouring two cups of coffee. "You're not kicking me out? I thought this was where you tell me you are tired and want to be alone, so we can avoid whatever you don't want to discuss."

She handed him a cup of coffee. "Are you trying to pick a fight?"

"You know what's in the envelope, don't you?"

She took a shaky breath. "I have a pretty good idea, if what you showed me earlier and your reaction is any indication."

She leaned against the counter. She knew she should have told him more than what she had. It was so much easier when she was with him to just not think about it, to pretend it never happened. It had worked up until now, but she knew he wanted to understand. "Those pictures, they were all from that night, leading up to that night." She wrapped her hands around the warmth of her cup. "Blake was always paranoid about all the time he spent away. He worried about leaving me alone at the lake house because it was so isolated. He even hired a groundskeeper." She scoffed at the last word. "He said he did it so I wouldn't have to worry about the upkeep of the property while I was busy on my doctorate work."

"That makes sense."

"Except the 'groundskeeper' had no idea what a lawnmower was for, or what to do with a power tool, but he was six foot seven and nearly three hundred pounds and an excellent marksman."

Booth smiled sympathetically. "I knew I liked Blake for some reason."

"Ironically, Blake had been home all week when they broke into our home. We had been home all evening. We went to bed without ever hearing or suspecting anything. I woke up and one of them was holding a gun to Blake's head, and the other had a knife at my throat. They never spoke, but we knew. . . I knew that if I didn't do what they wanted, they would make Blake pay for it, and they did. They shot him in the shoulder and in the leg. I knew what was going to happen. They had the upper hand. I knew how it was going to end, but I couldn't just let it happen. He held the knife to my throat, and made Blake watch the whole time. Whenever he tried to struggle with them, the knife was pushed into my throat until he stopped. We were nothing but puppets to them. They enjoyed pulling our strings, and watching our reactions."

Booth tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, watching her gaze into her coffee cup, like it was a crystal ball playing back the details of her past, rather than her future. He placed his hand under her chin, cupping her face in his palm, and tipped her face up so she was looking at him. He ran his thumb gently over her lips, before he kissed her softly.

"I gave up. I felt completely . . . powerless. I just wanted it to be over, but it went on and on, and he was holding Blake's face so close to mine. He had lost so much blood. I just kept thinking, 'Oh God, this is how he is going to die. This is how we are both going to die." At some point, I realized it was over. I don't know how long they had been gone. I thought Blake was dead. I just curled up against him and slept." She wiped the back of her hand across her face, smudging tears and makeup across her cheek. "A friend of ours found us a few hours later. Luckily, he was supposed to meet Blake for an early flight."

"You both survived. That's what is important. That's what counts. Everything else . . . it is just a manifestation of some sick bastard's need for control or revenge or whatever his particular obsession was at the time."

"I have never been that scared in my life."

"And you pulled through it. You ended up here. . . ." He pulled her in front of him, wrapping his arms around her waist, and resting his chin on her shoulder. ". . . with a pretty cool life. You love your job, and you are respected in your field. You have wonderful friends. You are getting reacquainted with your family . . . and then there is me."

She could feel him smiling over her shoulder. "You are right. My life is pretty cool." She turned in his arms, and they stayed like that, holding on to each other, for a long time.

He ran his fingers down her hair, gathering it in his hands, and kissing the back of her neck. "There is something we shouldn't ignore. We would be negligent to not take all of this as a threat."

She took a step back. "OK. Show me. I am ready."

He rested his forehead against hers. "It is really bad."

"I figured as much." She took his hand and led him back to the sofa.

The pictures were as bad as he warned. They were large, clearly focused prints of the worst night of her life. The tears and blood and fear and desperation were all captured in black and white. When he placed the clear bag with the pajama shorts on the table, she immediately recognized them. Her breath caught, and she could taste the bile rise in her throat. She fought the urge to be sick. She barely choked out the words, "Where did you get these?"

"The pictures were sent to Cam this afternoon. The shorts found their way onto Hodgins desk this afternoon."

She turned and stumbled to the bathroom, flinging the door closed behind her. Booth followed, cursing under his breath the whole way, scolding himself for putting her through this. He heard her emptying her stomach into the toilet. He paused outside the door, before knocking softly. He pushed it open and went to her, putting a soothing hand on her back. She was struggling to draw in air between sobs. "Hey, just take some deep breaths." He dampened a wash cloth and handed it to her. "Just focus on your breathing."

She held the washcloth to her face and slid down the wall until she was sitting on the floor, next to the toilet. She let her head hang down, and just stared at her knees. He sat down next to her, wrapping his arm around her shoulders, neither of them speaking for a long time. She finally looked up at him. "What does this mean?"


	4. Chapter 4

They had been sitting on the cold tile of the bathroom floor without saying much. The only warmth coming from the comforting arm around her shoulders, holding her close to his side. She rested her cheek flat against his chest, the scent of aftershave and soap, his scent, having a calming effect on her, making her feel at peace. It did not stop her racing thoughts though.

"What does this mean? He knows about you. . . about us? He knows where we work . . . where we live?" She was absolutely horrified at the idea of them intruding on her private life.

He raked his fingers through his hair. "It's late now. Tomorrow I will call in some favors, find out exactly where both of them are, where they have been. I will see if we got anything from any of this, from the photos or the bag or the fibers. I don't know where it will lead."

"Do you really think it could be one of them, or both?"

"I don't think we can exclude either of them." He knew she was having a hard time coming to terms with the possibility. He didn't see any other explanation. "For now, let's just get off this floor and try to get some sleep."

Booth spent half of the night feeling Brennan tossing and turning beside him, not that he would have been able to get any sleep anyway. There were a few hours she spent pressed against him, sleeping soundly, and he found himself lying on his back, staring up at the ceiling, his thoughts jumping around restlessly in his head. There were visions that played endlessly when he closed his eyes; visions that had no business occupying his thoughts at all; visions he knew had more to do with her words tonight, than with any of the photographs he saw earlier.

He felt her twitch in her sleep, and her hold around him unconsciously tighten. He smoothed his hand gently down her bare arm, hoping to sooth her back to sleep. He heard, or felt, her change in breathing, and realized she was awake again. He pulled the sheet up over them, and hugged her close.

She lifted her head up from his chest, and asked, "How long have you been awake?"

"How long have we been in bed?" He rested his chin on the top of her head. "At least you got a few hours sleep. I am ready to get up whenever you are. I'm not going to be doing much sleeping until we get some answers. I thought we could go to the lab first. They must know something by now."

"Don't you have to go to work?"

"I took a few personal days. I thought maybe you could do the same. I really don't want to let you out of my sight right now." She only sighed and rested her had back on his chest. "Just until we find out the motive behind all this. It would make me feel better."

"It didn't help you last night, and I was right here." She placed a kiss on his chest. "You are right, though. I'll talk to Cam this morning. It would make me feel better too."

He wasn't sure that he heard her correctly, so he said teasingly, "I'm sorry. Did you just concede that I was right about something?"

"I know I don't tell you, and you may never hear me say it again, but when you are around, you make me feel safe. I wish we could just stay here and wait for it all to just go away." She ran a hand down his bare chest, and let it rest on his abdomen. She closed her eyes, mentally listing the dreaded chores ahead of them this morning.

Booth rolled to his side, resting his head on his hand. She curled her arm under her head to use as a pillow in place of his chest, and looked up at him. He reached out and swept her hair away her face and shoulders, resting his hand on her cheek. "You are safe. I know that may not mean a lot to you, considering the circumstances, but I promise you that I am not going to let anything happen to you, and that is a promise I will keep. You understanding that, believing in me, means everything to me."

She felt tears spring to her eyes, blurring her vision. Blinking hard, she released the tears, freeing them to leave a track down her face toward Booth's hand, which was still resting on her cheek. He caught the tears with his fingertips, leaning forward to kiss the moist tracks away.

"You know I hate this."

He was overcome with emotion, barely able to squeeze his words past the lump that had suddenly lodged itself in his throat. Nothing but a strangled meaningless noise escaped his trachea when he tried to speak. He tried reminding himself sternly that he could not do this in front of her. He could not lose it when she was laying here next to him, expecting him to be the strong one for once. He took a deep breath, and swallowed hard. "I know how hard this is for you. I know you hate having to admit that you need help, but there is nothing wrong with putting some faith in someone that loves you to pull you through a rough time. Coming from somebody who loves you, I can tell you that it is considered a privilege." He smiled at her, and kissed her softly.

She returned his kiss slowly. "Have I ever told you how lucky I am?"

"No, . . . " He rolled onto his back, pulling her on top of him. ". . . but since you are full of confessions this morning. . . "

She continued her slow, but torturous, exploration of his mouth. "I really am quite lucky." She slid her hands underneath him, wrapping her arms around him, and lowering herself until her body was pressed against the full length of him. She nestled her face into the area of soft skin at the junction of his neck and shoulder, and stayed there, feeling his heart beating against hers. "Nothing you do goes unappreciated. . . nothing."

He slid a hand under her tank top to rest on her bare skin, and buried his other hand in her hair. "It's my pleasure, ma'am." He felt the breath of her soft laugh against his neck and thought to himself that he has already given up his heart to her, he would gladly give up his life without a moment's hesitation if it meant she would be safe.

**A/N: I just want to be the first to say. . . Damn straight she's lucky! LOL! This story is turning out much more angsty than I had planned. After I wrote the last chapter, I was like, 'Wow, where did that come from.' I freaked myself out a little bit. So I thought I would give you something...nicer. :D**


	5. Chapter 5

The phone rang and Brennan rolled away from Booth, reaching toward the nightstand for her cell phone. She realized it was Booth's phone ringing, and nudged him. He sat up reluctantly. "Your people are at it early this morning. It's barely six o'clock."

"How do you know it is one of my people?"

"Because all of my people are still sleeping, except maybe Parker, and he's probably watching cartoons."

He located his phone, saw that he missed Cam's call, and dialed her back.

_"Morning Cam."_

_"Are you guys OK? I thought we would have heard from you last night."_

_"We are fine. It hit her pretty hard, but once the shock wore off . . . I think she's handling it better than I am. At least she slept last night."_

_"Hodgins got some of the results back. It's pretty much what we expected."_

_"Meaning?"_

_"There was only one blood type, Dr. Brennan's. The preliminary DNA results suggest three separate samples. We will assume for now they belong to Dr. Brennan, Blake, and the son of a bitch that was responsible for. . ."_

_"So there is no way to tell for sure who sent the packages? No fingerprints? Nothing else he can pull off the fabric or the bag?"_

_"We would like to run the photos and packaging, and see if anything turns up."_

_"We will drop them by."_

_"Seeley, stop worrying about her. She is strong. She can handle this. She has you to help her."_

_"Thanks, Camille."_

He glanced over at Brennan, who was leaning against the counter listening to his end of the conversation. "They didn't find anything."

"No, nothing we didn't already know. Cam wants us to bring over the packages to see if they can pull anything." He was aware how disappointed she was. "I thought, after that, we would head over to my office and do some digging of our own. It should be easy enough to find out where they are, and if they are still in prison or not."

They showed up at the Jeffersonian less than an hour later, after quick showers, and a stop off at Brennan's apartment for a change of clothes. Angela went to Brennan, as soon as she walked up the steps to the platform, and gave her friend a hug.

She stepped back, avoiding the artist's concerned expression. "I am fine Ange. Really." Brennan took another step back, turning to find Hodgins and Cam watching her. They looked away quickly, but she could feel the tension in the room. She headed toward her office, mumbling something about having work to do.

Angela started to follow her, but Booth stopped her, speaking quietly. "Just give her a few minutes. I think she needs some space." He turned to Hodgins, placing the envelopes on the table. "I am going to leave these with you. I don't think we need to be here for this. We have seen them enough in the last 24 hours."

Jack rubbed his hands over his eyes, obviously frustrated by the situation. "I was hoping I would have had something, so none of us would have to look at those, but there just isn't anything to find. There is nothing to support that anyone besides Dr. Brennan, Blake or the third person was anywhere near these."

"Maybe that is our answer then." He turned to Cam. "We are planning on taking a few days off, until this is resolved."

"Of course. Take care of her, and yourself. You are not going to be of any use to anyone if you don't get some sleep."

"I don't think I am the only one who didn't sleep last night. You were all here all night."

She shook her head. "Wasting our time with little or nothing to go on."

Angela crossed her arms. "I want to help, but I can't be here. I can't look at those." She saw Cam and Booth look at each other, and knew they were nervous about her freaking out. She looked at them calmly, and explained. "I was there, at the trial. I had to look at pictures like those for days. I had to listen to everybody talk about them like they were looking at pictures of somebody stealing a scarf from Macy's, not pictures of my best friend beaten and tortured and humiliated. I can't look at those again."

Booth stepped forward first. "Believe me Angela, I don't ever plan on looking at them again either, not that it is necessary. I won't ever forget those images, as much as I want to. Obviously, they are going to have to be gone over for evidence, but you do not have to be here for that."

Angela nodded, and laid her hand on his arm. "I am sorry you had to see those. I always thought you should know, but not like that."

He sighed. "There is something I've been thinking about. You should stay here in the lab. It's safer. You are the only one who wasn't sent something. Maybe the packages yesterday were the end of it, but it's best to be safe."

She glanced from Booth to Jack. She obviously never considered that she could be in any danger. She only nodded.

Jack was watching her closely. "We will all be here until we figure this out."

Brennan appeared in the doorway behind Booth. "I don't think we need to worry about finding fingerprints or making phone calls." They all turned to look at a very stunned Brennan, clutching her cell phone in her hand.

Booth took a few steps toward her, noticing that she had been crying. His heart was suddenly pounding in his chest. "What are you talking about? What happened?"

She held her cell phone out to him wordlessly. "Blake wants to talk to you."

**A/N: Cliffy! Sorry! The chapter was way too long, so I split it into two chapters. And.....we've come to the point of my story where I hold the next chapter hostage for reviews. I need some input. I need to know if anybody out there is actually reading this. :D I'll just keep writing future chapters until I get some feedback. Thanks!!**


	6. Chapter 6

Brennan closed her office door and sat down at her desk, taking a few deep breaths and trying to gather her thoughts on what was rapidly starting to encompass her life, and apparently the lives of everyone around her. She knew they were all down the hall, discussing her past, trying to figure out a course of action for the immediate future.

She thought about the first time her refuge of science was intruded upon by personal complications. It was when the remains of Christine Brennan showed up at her lab, along with all of the memories and questions that she stirred up. Brennan's team had pulled through for her then, just like they are trying to do now. Now another painful chapter in her life has intruded into her sanctuary, the one place where she could once immerse herself into her science and logic, and not be bothered by interruptions from the outside world.

She was jolted from her reverie by the ringing of her cell phone. Wondering who, besides the group gathered on the platform, would be calling at this hour of the morning, she looked at her phone, surprised to see Blake's name appear on the display.

_"Blake?"_

_"Hi, Bren. I hope this isn't a bad time."_

_"You have no idea."_

_"What's wrong? You sound upset."_

_"It's only seven, and it's already been one of those days."_

_"Is Booth with you?"_

_"Yes, we are at the Jeffersonian."_

_"I have something I need to talk to you about. Are you sure you are alright? You sound. . ."_

_"I'm fine, OK? Just give it a rest, and tell me whatever it is you are calling about. I have a suspicion that I'm not going to want to hear about it any more than I wanted to hear Booth's news last night, and I'm not in the mood to coax it out of you."_ The pitch of her voice rose to a near panic level, and she was not surprised to find herself in tears again. She was angry with him, and she had no idea why, except that she was scared to death of what he was going to tell her.

_"Temperance. . . Are you and Booth fighting?"_

_"No, but wouldn't you love it if we were?"_ She couldn't keep the hurtful remarks from spilling from her mouth. She knew before he denied it, that it wasn't true. She sniffed, and tried to get herself back under control. She was pacing the floor, waiting for any remark that she knew she could turn around and draw blood with. She knew him well enough to make it easy for her.

He only paused for a moment before he replied calmly, _"No, I like Booth. He is good for you. I want him there with you, there for you. Stop pacing the floor, and tell me what he told you last night."_

She stopped pacing, and sunk to the floor, sitting with her back against her desk. She couldn't stop the tears now if she had the energy to even try. She just sat there pathetically, holding the phone, and crying into it. She didn't know how much he could understand between the sobs and hiccups and sniffs, but she told him everything that Booth told her the night before.

_"Temperance, listen to me. Are you listening?"_ She nodded, and mumbled that she was. _"I got pictures this morning; recent pictures of you and Booth, along with a note_. _I called Hannah this morning. She made some calls. They are out, Bren, both of them. As far as she knows, they are still here in Nashville, but she won't know for sure for a while."_ She didn't say anything at all. He just heard her ragged breathing on the other end of the line. _"Bren, go get Booth. Tell him I need to talk to him."_

_"When?"_

_"Temperance, I need to talk to Booth."_

_"When did they get out? Why didn't Hannah let us know? She was in charge of putting them away. They were supposed to be locked up for twenty plus years. Wouldn't she know when they were released? Why are they out now, and why didn't she let me know?" _

_"I don't know. I didn't ask. She is coming out tomorrow morning and I will ask her. I will get some answers."_

She didn't say anything else as she walked down the corridor to the platform. She heard them talking when she approached the steps to the platform, but didn't bother to absorb what they were saying. She waited for their talking to stop before she held out her phone to Booth. "I don't think we need to worry about finding fingerprints or making phone calls."

Booth was watching her with concern. "What are you talking about? What happened?"

She held her cell phone out to him, not bothering to warn him of what was coming. "Blake wants to talk to you."

He took the phone from her, confused and worried, dread seeping into his bones. "What? Why?"

Brennan turned and headed back toward her office. Booth gestured for Angela to go check on her, as he turned his attention to the phone in his hand.

_"Blake. Temperance says you wanted to talk to me about something."_

_"She's upset. She told me what has been going on."_

_"Angela is with her."_

_"I also received a package, with pictures and a note."_

_"Can you elaborate on that please."_

_"Pictures of you and Temperance together, recent pictures, and a note."_

_"The note. . . what did it say?"_

_"It said, 'I haven't forgotten. Neither have you. Neither will he.' I checked with the Detective that was in charge, that put them in prison. They have both been released, and the last information she has puts them here in Nashville. I am meeting with her tomorrow morning. I promised Bren I would get more answers."_

_Booth didn't say anything for a few moments. "I am flying in this afternoon. I would like to be included in your meeting."_

_"Of course. I expected you to insist on it. I would have been disappointed if you hadn't. Call when you get in, and I will send a driver to pick you up. The cabin is sort of hard to find."_

_"How much of this does she know?"_

_"Everything except what the note said. She was pretty upset."_

_"I will see you this afternoon. Thank you for calling."_

Booth gave Cam and Hodgins a quick update, letting them know his travel plans, and headed for Brennan's office. He knocked on her door, and Angela opened it, letting him walk in, as she headed out to give them some privacy.

"If you are going to Nashville to talk to Blake and Detective Monroe, I am coming with you."

"No. You are not. You are staying here with Jack, Angela and Cam."

"I am coming with you, or I will go without you, but I am going."

He stared at her, knowing that when she was like this, he didn't have a chance of getting his way. "It's dangerous. You heard what Blake said. They are probably in Nashville. They are probably waiting for us to react this exact way. It is like walking right into their trap."

"One or both of them were here, in DC. They have pictures of us together. Recent pictures. How would it be safer for me to be here without you?"

He sighed and sat down on her couch. "I don't like it."

She sat down next to him, and turned to face him, holding on to his forearm and leaning toward him. "We are a team. We will end this together, for good. The thought of going back there terrifies me, but if I am with you, I can do it."

**A/N: Thanks for all the reviews for the last chapter! They are like caffeine, they are the fuel that keeps me going. ;) I have the next chapter ready to post.**


	7. Chapter 7

It was late evening when the finally pulled into the driveway of Blake's lake cabin, the same cabin that he and Brennan shared when they were a couple. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Are you?"

Booth sighed and put his hand on her thigh, turning his palm up. She slid her hand into his, drawing strength from his calloused hand wrapped around her soft one. "Let's go inside then."

They got out of their rental car, and walked up the drive. Booth noticed Brennan hesitate when she saw the black truck parked in front of the garage next to the cabin.

"Familiar?"

"Yes. Everything is the same, yet everything has changed. It's a strange feeling."

He slid his hand down to rest on the small of her back. "Are you sure you are going to be ok with this?"

"If it means an end to it all, yes." He followed her up the steps that lead to a wide porch that wrapped around the stone and cedar cottage. She was quiet for a minute while she looked out over the lake. "I used to love sitting out here, watching the sun set over the lake. It's so quiet and peaceful. I miss that, being able to just sit and hear yourself think." She gave the porch swing a nudge, and turned back to him. "Blake is buying me out of my half of this place. He is looking for something similar for me to invest in, someplace smaller, and closer to home."

He elbowed her playfully, smiling at her. "Definitely with a lake, for fishing and watching sunsets, and a fireplace..."

"And a big plasma TV hanging on the wall?" She teased him back, remembering with a smile their conversation about the bridge and the house and the baby named Andy.

"Now you're talking."

Blake opened the door, and stepped out on the porch. He had on jeans and an old t-shirt, and bare feet. He looked between the two of them, and then back at Brennan. "What are you doing here?" He turned to Booth. "When we talked, I assumed you were coming alone. This is not a good idea."

"You tell her that. I tried."

Blake glared at her, not wanting to back down. "Have you thought this through? You are actually planning on staying here? You know he is watching you, watching all of us. You really think it is a good idea for us to make it that easy for him?" He ran his hand through his hair.

"I feel safer here than alone at my place wondering if they are watching."

Frustrated, he turned to Booth. "You know what? You try to talk some sense into her. I don't have to do this anymore."

Brennan narrowed her eyes and glared at him, and he turned and walked into the cabin, leaving the door open. Booth just raised his eyebrows, trying to keep from laughing at them. "You guys gonna be alright? I can see I'm not the only one who finds you infuriating sometimes."

She brushed by him, and he followed her inside, shutting the door behind himself. "When you said cabin, this is not what I expected. Wow." He took in the high beamed ceilings, the huge stone fireplace, and all the gleaming wood and stainless steel appliances. Brennan noticed their were still packing boxes stacked along one wall, and the place had an unlived in feel to it.

Blake caught the direction of her gaze. "I haven't had time to get settled. I have been spending most of my time in the city. It's hard to get used to all this quiet again." She remembered that he used to live for the time he could spend away from the city, but decided not to say anything. "I called Hannah, after I got the pictures and the note. She is going to be here in the morning." He laid the pictures on the table, along with the note, which were in zipper bags.

They were just as he described on the phone. Two pictures, and a short note. _"I haven't forgotten, neither have you, neither will he." _The pictures were immediately recognizable. The first one taken at Booth's. They were on the couch. She was sitting on his lap. His hands were under her sweater. The second was at Brennan's. They were in the bathtub together. She was unclothed, he was fully clothed. They were laughing.

She didn't say anything, just blinked at the photos in front of her.

"Who is Hannah?"

She forced her attention away from the photos and back to Booth's questions. "Detective Hannah Monroe. She was in charge of our case. She worked relentlessly on the investigation. Without her. . ."

Blake finished her sentence sarcastically. ". . . they would be out on the streets. A lot of good all of that effort did. It has been just short of five years since they were arrested."

Silence hung in the room. "I have a feeling tomorrow is going to be a long day. Why don't we try to get some sleep?" Booth could see by the look on her face that she had not thought as far as sleeping arrangements, and she was obviously not comfortable with any of the available options. Blake spoke up first. "The upstairs bedrooms are still empty. There are just the two down here, and the couch. I'll take that. You two take my room."

Booth shook his head. "I am really not comfortable with that...at all." He held up his hands. "This is your house. You sleep in your room. We'll take the guest room." Blake and Brennan exchanged a look, and Booth caught on immediately, cursing himself for being the idiot. "We will sleep out here. I'll go get our bags out of the car." He slipped out uncomfortably to get some fresh air, and to get away from the elephant he left standing in the room.

Blake opened a hall closet and pulled out some pillows and blankets. "You'll be OK out here?"

"We'll be fine. Are you OK with this?"

"No, but better than I would be if I knew you two were in my bed." He laughed and gave her a quick hug. "Strangely, I mean that in a completely brotherly way. As in, gross, I don't want to see or hear about it."

She laughed at his choice of words, and assured him that they would try to keep it down. "I thought you were moving back here a few months ago. You're still living out of boxes?"

"I met somebody. It's become kind of serious. We have been sharing the condo in the city. She wants to move out here together. I can't bring myself to bring her out here yet. It doesn't feel right."

"Until you buy me out of my share of the cabin?"

"Partly. Mostly until I feel it's time to tell her the story of the haunted master suite." He heard Booth's footsteps on the porch, and said, "Do you think he realizes why you two are sleeping on the couch instead of in the 900 square foot master suite?"

She nodded, "I think he figured it out. That room has been taboo so long, I forgot it's not just common knowledge to everyone that we don't use that part of the house." She hugged him. "I am happy for you. You should just tell her. Or better yet, don't. Just move both of your bags into that room. . ." She gestured toward the closed door. ". . . and just get over it. You'll tell her when it's the right time."


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Apologies for the lack of posting. Christmas shopping and other random family obligations kept me busy this weekend. Here is the first of two chapters I finished last night. I think shopping releases endorphins that enhance my imagination. :D**

"You don't find this awkward at all?"

"Not at all." Brennan took one of the pillows and a blanket and claimed her half of the large leather sectional sofa, while Booth settled on the opposite end. "I talked to him. He's fine with it."

"He's not fine with it."

"How can you say that?"

"I can say that because we are members of the same club."

"Club? I am afraid to ask."

"The Fraternal Order of Schmucks who have been dumped and their ex's have moved on, and being an honorary member, I can officially say that he is not fine with us sleeping in his home together; the home that he used to share with you."

She just stared at him and didn't say anything for a minute. "I have no idea what you are talking about. Would it bother you for Rebecca and her fiance to sleep over at your place?"

"Yes. It would."

"I think I have a problem with that." She still looked confused, and a little hurt. "Blake doesn't care. I asked him. He said it would bother him if we slept in his room, but he's fine with this, as long as he doesn't see or hear anything. I told him we would try to keep it down."

Booth looked horrified. "You did not."

"Yes I did. Back to Rebecca. Why would that bother you? You know they are having sex."

He looked at her incredulously. "Why would it not? I don't care who she has sex with. I just don't want her to do it in my house." He looked startled as another thought entered his mind. "And just for the record. We are not having sex here."

"Fine."

"Fine." He rearranged his pillow and propped himself up so he could see her, and found her curled on her side with her head resting on her arms watching him. "Are you laughing at me?"

"A little." She propped her head up on her hand. "Just so you know. I encouraged Blake to move here with his girlfriend. It wouldn't bother me at all."

"Blake has a girlfriend?"

"Yes, he does. Are you grinning?"

"A little." He turned onto his side, mirroring her position. "Until today, I would never have pictured you in a place like this."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean out here in the woods, away from people, labs and microscopes, spending time on porch swings, watching sunsets, skinny dipping."

She could hear the smile in his voice. "Are you making fun of me?" She layed back down, sinking into the down blanket and pillow.

"Not at all. I like it. You seem at home, comfortable, here."

"Maybe it's not the place. Maybe it's you."

"Maybe we should take a real vacation when this is over and find out." He saw her eyes cloud over, and knew before she said anything that she had landed back in reality with a jolt.

"What are we doing here? What are we going to accomplish? Sending mail, even horribly disturbing mail, is not a crime." She pushed the blanket off and sat up. "What would they be charged with? Harrassment? Trespassing? I don't want to be here. I just want to go home and . . ."

He threw his blanket off and stood up, walking to the window, and staring out into the blackness. "And what? Pretend they are not watching us, not intruding on our private lives, trying to intimidate us into living in fear that they will come back. I can't live like that. I can't worry all the time about letting down my guard and leaving us in a vulnerable position. I can't do it. There is too much at stake."

Brennan followed him to his spot by the window, and put her arms around his waist. "I know what is at stake better than anyone. I don't like the idea of them being out there, observing our most intimate moments, any more than you do. I don't want to have to change the way we live our lives to accommodate them." She rested her cheek against his back, running her hands over his stomach and up across his chest. "I don't want you to do anything stupid that is going to get you hurt or in trouble."

"Let's hear what Detective Monroe has to say tomorrow. She should have a pretty good idea about their movement over the past few months. That will tell us a lot. If one or both of them was stupid enough to go to DC, and take those pictures of us, that is crossing state lines and a violation of their parole. It can be revoked. It just depends on how much information she can get her hands on, and how stupid they are." He turned and took her hands in his. "If you want to go back, at any time, just tell me, but I can't let this go."

"I'm not leaving without you."

"Let's get some sleep. We will have a lot more to go on tomorrow."

..........................................................

Booth sat up and tried to clear the sleep from his head. He knew as soon as he opened his eyes that he had slept longer than he intended. The sun was already shining on the lake and casting a rippling glare across the room. He smelled coffee coming from the kitchen, and dragged himself to his feet, following the scent, expecting to find Brennan on the other end of it. He shuffled into the kitchen, and instead of Brennan, found Blake sitting at the counter with two cups of coffee.

Blake nudged one cup toward Booth, and said, "You look like you could use a cup. Temperance took hers to go. She went out there before the sun came up."

"Thanks." They both glanced out the glass doors to the spot where she was sitting with the blanket wrapped around her shoulders, seemingly lost in thought. He looked down into his cup. "You don't think she should be here."

"I can't believe she came here." They sat in silence for a few minutes. "Hannah, Det. Monroe, wasn't ever one of Bren's favorite people. She put up with her only because she knew Hannah was dedicated to putting those bastards away. Hannah is very blunt, very direct. She pushed Brennan throughout the investigation to do things, talk about things she wasn't comfortable with."

"I would think that the nature of the investigations she handles would require some pushing and prodding. Unfortunately, it's part of the process."

"The process sucks. There was hardly a day in the months after that we didn't have to describe some aspect of it, or look at photos, or actual creepy guys in line ups, or one of our personal favorites, listen to creepy men say disgusting things in voice line ups."

"I never said that it was a good process, or even one that works half the time. At least you were lucky in that they were caught, and convicted."

"Lucky? I never looked at it that way. What we went through was not worth them spending barely five years locked up."

"You would rather have faced this, what's going on now, for the past five years?"

"I pushed her to go through with it. I told her that it would be better in the long term. If we could just get them off the street, things would get better. I could have never imagined the path I set us on. Imagine getting a phone call in the middle of the night, seeing who it is on caller id, dreading that they need something else, and knowing you have to answer it, even though you have been up for the last three hours talking her down from a nightmare. And if it's not bad enough, you know that after we do whatever it is they want us to do this time, there will only be more nightmares."

Blake set his coffee cup down, and looked into it. "Imagine what it feels like to know that you are losing it, she's losing it, and your relationship is falling apart. You keep telling her that it's over, to just hang on a little bit longer. An hour later Hannah or her partner, or both of them, show up at our door, and I have to convince her that we have to go through it again. And it gets harder every time."

"No. I can't even begin to imagine it, but I can think of something worse. . . her having to go through it alone, not having somebody their to remind her that it is over and she is safe. That is the only thing I can think of that would be worse." Booth stood up and poured his cold coffee down the drain. "I'll tell her Hannah will be here soon."

.

.

**REVIEW, AND YOU GET CHAPTER 9. . . DON'T REVIEW, AND YOU'LL STILL GET IT. I JUST WON'T BE HAPPY ABOUT IT. SO. . . MAKE ME HAPPY!**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Sorry. . . Christmas is very time consuming! I'm finally caught up and have time off from work and am ready to finish this thing! It's been driving me crazy not being able to update, so here it is. . . finally. Hopefully it will not be as long for the next chapter, but I'm not prepared to make any promises. **

"Hannah, this is Special Agent Seeley Booth, with the FBI. He is a friend of Brennan's."

Detective Hannah Monroe brushed past the trio standing in the foyer and set her briefcase on the kitchen table. "There are two of you now? Great." She looked at Booth with a mixture of curiosity and interest. She turned to Brennan, and cocked an eyebrow. "You know how to pick 'em."

Booth offered his hand, ignoring her remark. "It's good to meet you, Detective Monroe."

She accepted the gesture hesitantly. "Agent Booth, is your interest here personal or professional?"

"Personal. This is not a Bureau matter."

"Then what are you doing here, and why is Dr. Brennan here? Are you looking to save the damsel in stress and stroke your hero complex?"

"I'm not planning on having to save anyone." He turned to Blake. "You said she was direct." Blake just raised his eyebrows.

Detective Monroe went on questioning Booth. "You must have a purpose for your visit. Are you here to make sure they get locked up again or are you here to take them out of the picture completely?"

"I am here to find out why someone is leaving pictures in my home, my car, my office. . ." he threw the copies of the photos on top of her briefcase, followed by the second set of photos on the table. ". . . and in her boss' office, and her coworkers desk." He finished with the bagged pajama shorts, which Detective Monroe immediately recognized, the ones she could never find to submit into evidence. "We are here for answers. We would like to know how pissed off they are after spending a few years in jail."

"You didn't answer my question. What are you planning to do about it?"

"I plan on ending it."

"The intimidation, or them? Unfortunately, it is not open season on convicted rapists. You should rethink your plan. Murder to avenge the attack on your girlfriend, though noble, is still illegal. I don't have to tell you that."

"I have no intention of murdering anyone. I am going to watch them though. I am going to see what they are up to."

"And if they are up to finding a moment when Dr. Brennan is alone, and they attempt a repeat performance. You haven't thought this through. You were acting on emotion, and now you are here, and you have no idea what you are getting yourselves into."

"You make it sound like I brought her here as bait. She came with me because she is safer here than alone at home."

"You had better be damn sure you are right about that, because there will be one hell of a consequence if you are underestimating their capabilities."

Brennan interrupted their conversation. "Where are they? You tell us where to start."

"I am not here to hand them over to you. The only reason I am here is because I broke a promise. I promised a phone call, a heads up, when one or both were released. I was never told, and I never checked on them. I had no idea they would be out this soon. So I am here to apologize, and to share with you what I could find on them. That's all. This is no longer my precinct, and they are not rape suspects any longer. I talked to Nashville Police Department, and the local county officials. They are aware of the situation."

Blake stopped her. "How long have they been out? Where have they been?"

"Here, for all I can tell. They were both released several weeks ago. They have been at work, using their credit cards locally, making their parole hearings."

"I can tell you that two months ago, they are not here. At least one of them was near Brennan's home one night, and mine the next, taking the photos that were sent to Blake."

"You can't prove that, or you wouldn't be here. You found nothing to link either of them to these photos, and I bet if I check the ones sent here, I won't find anything on those either."

Blake provided the envelope of pictures. Hannah opened it, and looked at each photo closely, keeping them in their plastic bags. "Someone took them from outside, with a zoom lens. We can have the lab look at them. They can probably tell how far away they were."

Brennan cut her off again. "The issue is not how far they were from our windows. It is that they were their in the first place, that they knew where we were going to be, and that they watched something very personal." She shivered thinking about it, having a hard time shaking off the chill that invaded her bones thinking about that night at her place and knowing that they were a part of it now, and would always be a part of it, the same way they made their imprint on the night at Booth's in his bathtub when he told her he loved her for the first time. She didn't say anything else, and stayed quiet for the remainder of Hannah's visit.

.......................

Booth stood in front of her, holding a blanket, and waiting for an invitation to sit. Brennan nudged the floor with the toe of her shoe, keeping the swing in motion.

"Can I join you, or am I supposed to know that when you come out here, you want to be alone?"

"I don't want to be alone."

"You've been quiet since Hannah and Blake left."

She reached up and waited for him to take her hand, pulling him down next to her. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her against his side. She leaned into him, resting her head against his chest. She felt his arm tighten around her, and knew he would hold her as long as she needed him. She knew she would feel better, even though nothing changed, and nothing was solved.

He played with her hair, wrapping it around his finger, and tucking strands behind her ear. "I know what you are thinking."

"I doubt it. Your outlook is way to positive for you to have any idea what I am thinking."

"Positive? The only thing I am positive about is that we will get through this. I just haven't figured out how yet." I get that you are scared, and pissed. I am too. I don't like this any more than you do." He leaned his head back against the swing until he was looking straight up at the stars. "You are thinking that there is no way this is going to end well. Either we stay here, sitting and waiting for something to happen, which only leads to the possibility of someone getting hurt, or doing something stupid, or we give up. We go back home and wonder all the time if we are being watched, and hope that they will lose interest. I don't like either option much."

They sat in silence for a long time, Booth watching the stars and Brennan listening to the steady rhythm of his hear, and feeling it's beat against her cheek. "What if it's not so bleak? What if they haven't learned their lesson? It's possible that someone else is hoping they will be caught."

"That's not a bleak thought?"

"I'm not saying I am wishing it on anyone, but. . ."

"I know what you mean, but it's a long shot. I'm sure Det. Monroe or the local police would have run his MO. It's someplace to start though. I was planning on spending tomorrow in Nashville, at the police department and the Bureau branch office. I want to see if they are doing anything, or if they can tell us anything, or if it is going to be left up to us. Blake is going to be at the studio tomorrow. He said you could go in with him and spend the day there."

"I don't need a babysitter."

"Do you really want to stay here alone?"

"I don't want to be here at all."

"I don't like being here either. I don't like feeling like I am competing with your memories of this place, of your life here with Blake. I have a feeling the good times far outweighed the bad times you have had here."

Brennan lifted her head and tipped it back so she could see his face. "I do have good memories here, and some bad ones. I wouldn't change any of it, not if it would compromise where we are now. I wouldn't give this up for anything." She reached up and touched his face, turning it so he was looking at her.

"Then do this for me. Go to the studio with Blake tomorrow, where there is security, and other people around, where you would be safe."

"I love you. Nothing here is going to change that." He brought his lips down to meet hers, and they exchanged a kiss full of hope and fear and uncertainty and comfort.


	10. Chapter 10

**Sorry for the super huge delay, but I lost my inspiration for this one a while back. It has been bugging me every time I see 'Past and Present Collide - Chapter 10' in my document folder. I hate leaving things unfinished, so I went back and reread the first nine chapters, and I am psyched again. I brainstormed and come up with a way to continue this and end it properly. **

**..........**

**Just in case anybody needs a reminder. This is a sequel to Thunder, which is the story where we meet the character, Blake, who is Brennan's ex love. He is a country music recording artist, and he lives in a cabin in the woods...because I am writing this, and I thought that would be fun. LOL. They split because Brennan was raped and Blake nearly killed and it was too much baggage for the relationship. Booth and Brennan are involved, Blake comes back into the picture, and Booth learns of Brennan's rape, which she never told him about.**

**In Past and Present Collide, the team is being sent pictures of Brennan and Booth, and Brennan and Blake, and the assault. They are in Nashville and staying with Blake, because that's where Brennan and Blake used to live (of course, where else, because he is a country singer, remember?), and that's where her attackers have been since they were recently released from prison. I think that brings us up to date... **

**..........**

We were bumping over the uneven asphalt that stretched for miles, connecting the cabin to civilization. The truck, which was Blake's pride and joy, did nothing to absorb the bumps. "I just remembered what I don't miss about this place." I held on to the arm rest, as he refused to slow down to minimize the impact. If I remember right, this is one of the parts he enjoyed the most. "You kept the truck."

"How many times have I told you. If I'm going to live in the woods, I'm going to drive a truck. A real one, with a tailgate, not a sissy _sports utility vehicle_, with leather and wood and an entertainment system." He clearly showed his distaste for the recreational 4x4 that poses as a _real_ truck.

"Good for you." I smiled at him to soften the blow. "Your fascination with this thing is not natural." I knew he loved the unsightly thing.

"I bet Booth drives an SUV, a big black one, with four wheel drive, that he never uses."

"He doesn't live in the woods."

He laughed and shook his head, but I knew he liked Booth, and had a certain respect for him. "I have been watching the two of you. It reminds me of us, or the old us anyway."

"That's what Booth is afraid of. He likes you, trusts you, but he is very motivated for this to be over. So tell me about the new person in your life. What's her name?"

"Olivia. . ."

I could tell by the way he failed to elaborate on the details that there was something he didn't want me to know. "Olivia. . . Do I know her?"

He was practically squirming in his seat. "I don't know if you remember her. She was our tour manager a few years back. You've met her a few times."

"You mean Liv? Of course I remember her. Pretty, blonde, always dressed to impress. I never liked her."

"That's a surprise."

"Don't make me sound like the jealous ex-girlfriend. She was always hanging on your every word, so you wouldn't have noticed how unpleasant she was to me. I'm sure she's much more. . . agreeable, now that she has you to herself."

He laughed nervously, and denied that he had ever noticed how she took every opportunity she could to be near him when I wasn't around. "I don't know what you're talking about. You were never the jealous type before. Have you been harboring this resentment toward her all these years?"

"I am not jealous, and I am not resentful of anything. I am just giving you the facts as I saw them. She was into you even back then."

I could tell that he wanted to argue the point further, but he decided to let it drop. The rest of the ride was spent in a companionable silence. The hours of missed sleep caught up with me, and I dozed off at some point, waking with a start when we pulled into his parking spot.

"Liv is going to be here today, so I am sure she will want to say hello."

"I am sure she will." I turned to face him before we got out of the truck, realizing I had let a negative connotation slip into my voice. I never would have noticed that before spending so much time with Booth. I congratulated myself, and cursed Booth at the same time. "I didn't mean to sound resentful. I want you to be happy. I really do. If she is the one, then I am happy for you."

"The one? You've become awfully comfortable with that concept." His blue eyes sparkled. He always enjoyed trying to debunk my fundamental beliefs. He always thought he would be able to convince me that errors existed in my thought processes in some areas. He succeeded more times than I thought possible. If he failed completely, I would not have agreed to share our living arrangements, or allowed him to put that ring on my left hand, even though, technically, we never referred to it as a symbol of upcoming nuptuals. It did, however, imply a promise of monogamy and a promise that we would not be alone. I had to visibly shake myself back to the present when I saw that he was still regarding me with amusement.

"What? No. What I meant was, if she is _the one_ who makes you happy..."

"Well, that's not what you said, and just so you know, it's written all over both of your faces that you are each others _one,_ even if neither of you have reached the point of admitting it." He got out of the truck, and left me sitting their pondering the validity of his statement.

..........

The morning at the studio went by quickly. I passed the time catching up with old aquaintances and watching part of Blake's time consuming task of cutting a new track for his upcoming new release. It always amazed me that the beauty and simpleness of the songs shone through all the grueling work that was put into them.

Olivia caught my arm as I made my way out of the small recording area. She was looking way too cheerful, considering she had probably caught wind of my temporary living arrangements.

"Temperance, I heard you were back in town for a few days. I was just coming to find you so we could get a cup of coffee. You have got to be bored silly."

"Actually, I do prefer to be at home, and not being hauled around the city by an overprotective babysitter."

"At home. That's sweet. Do you mean home in DC, or home in Blake's lake house? Some places do always seem like home regardless of the circumstances." Her biting tone did not go unnoticed, even to me. She was obviously threatened by my proximity to Blake.

"Technically, it is still _our_ lake house, or at least that is how the title reads. He told me that you wanted to move there with him. I told him he should definitely consider it. He used to love that place."

"Really? Since you left, he barely talks about the place. Although, recently, he has been down there a few times. Everything seems to come back to you eventually."

I couldn't accept the fact that my actions have had that much influence over his decisions. I didn't want to think that I played some part in keeping him away from the place that he loves so much, the place that gives him a little piece in his hectic, overly scheduled life. I didn't want to have that kind of responsibility for his happiness. I didn't have a right to it anymore. "Maybe it's not me. Maybe he is ready to get on with his life, with you."

She looked a little surprised that I would make that concession. "I worried about him, after you left. I hoped that you leaving didn't have anything to do with what happened between Blake and myself. I told him that it was just one night, that it didn't mean anything, but you know Blake. He always has to do the right thing. He said he needed to tell you, and face the consequences."

"I don't understand. Tell me what?" I saw her expression change quickly from compassion to triumph, and I realized that I played right into her game.

She laughed, seemingly at her own faux pas, and shook her head. "So, he didn't let the cat out of the bag, so to speak. I always just assumed that's what happened." I let her gloat a little more over her victory, and didn't bother to try and make sense of her strange euphemisms. "That night is kind of a taboo topic with Blake since we got back together."

"That is expected. We always try to deny or rationalize anything we do that goes against our fundamental beliefs. Blake was undeniably against lying and cheating until you started hanging around him. When?"

"He must have seen something he liked enough to sway his _fundamental beliefs_, and apparently it wasn't too much of a lie, because it's been almost five years, and he is still with me."

"The long trip at the end of the tour." I suddenly knew why he seemed so different, uneasy, when he returned home. I thought he just needed time to unwind after being away so long. It was his last tour before everything happened, and things started to unravel. He canceled all of his dates after we were attacked, so he could be with me, so we could try to fix things. Apparently, some of the things he was trying to fix, I had no idea were broken.

I turned and walked out of the building, smiling at everyone who said hello, and pretended that the blanket of everything I had known to be true over the past five years had not just been yanked out from under me.

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**Hmmm, yeah, I know nothing about the recording industry...obviously, or country music for that matter, and I really don't care to, so don't laugh at my ignorance too much. LOL.**


	11. Chapter 11

**What's going on with this site? I haven't been able to update... I'm guessing technical problems that are not on my end for once.**

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I continued out of the building, not realizing how suffocated I was feeling until I stepped out into the fresh air and sunshine. Without thinking, I went to Blake's truck, and automatically reached for the spare key he kept under the floor mat. I sat motionless in the truck, holding the key, and berating myself for letting Olivia get to me, for letting Blake get to me after all this time.

I tried to convince myself that it was not betrayal that I was feeling, because you couldn't feel betrayed by someone who has not been part of your life for so many years. Could you? I refused to let myself go down that path, because then I would start questioning whether our relationship was doomed for failure even before the attack, and all the issues it presented. Would I still be carrying guilt around with me for the way I treated him, and the way I left him? Would it be wrong to admit to myself that I am glad I never knew about his affair with Liv, because I needed him all to myself back then. I needed to believe that he would stick by me through everything.

I jabbed the key in the ignition, and prepared myself to put my conversation with Liv out of my mind during the long ride back to the cabin, and hopefully for good. Whatever happened back then, is no longer relevant to the life I have now.

I glanced in the rear view mirror before pulling out of Blake's parking spot, and the hair on my arms stood on end. My foot instinctively found the brake pedal. It was him standing there, lingering near lobby entrance, next to the bank of elevators. When I turned and looked back, he was gone. I _knew_ I saw him, even though the little voice in my head was screaming at me that it was just a manifestation of all the stress of the past couple days.

I knew that face. I would never forget it. It was him standing there, watching me. I am not the type of person that lets my mind conjure up images of things that are not there. He must have seen that I recognized him and left, or hid. I glanced around nervously, while random images and memories pounded through my head. I picked up my phone, and automatically dialed Booth's number. I needed to calm down. I needed to focus. I needed him to tell me that he would be waiting for me when I got to the cabin.

His phone was not in service, so he must be at the cabin. Nobody ever gets service out there. I locked my doors and put the truck in reverse, feeling a sense of panic overtaking my common sense. It didn't matter that I was locked inside Blake's over sized truck, speeding away from the garage. What mattered is that he was there, that he knew where I would be, and he was watching me. That is what chilled me to the bone.

After several more failed attempts at reaching Booth, my cell phone also went out of service, and I tossed it on the seat next to me. As I put miles between me and the studio, I felt my apprehension lessen. I knew Booth would be at the cabin when I got there. We would discuss it and decide how to proceed.

I steered off the main road, making the turn toward Blake's house, when I saw the car just ahead, pulled off on the side of the road. The panic slammed back into me with full force. Even though the road the car was parked on was technically the main road leading to the lake, it is not be any standards a _main_ road. Very few people knew about this road, and even fewer people drove it. It didn't make sense for the car to be there, but it was not my main priority to investigate it. My priority was to get back to the cabin, find Booth, and find an explanation for everything that seemed to be happening all at once.

I drove the last mile or two without any kind of conscious consideration of what I was doing. I knew I needed to calm down, but I couldn't make my body respond to my logic. My hands were shaking, actually my whole body was trembling. I could barely see where I was going through my tears, and my heart was racing.

I shoved the truck into park as it screeched to a halt. I numbly realized that our rental car was not in the drive, but I didn't stick around to consider the implications. I stumbled out of the truck, tripping on an uneven paving stone. My hands stung from scraping them on the pavement, and hot tears burned my eyes, but I had panic on my side, forcing me on, as I blindly made my way to the porch.

I felt for the key and let myself in. I stood in the middle of the room, half expecting to see Booth sprawled on the sofa, watching the garrishly large television. When the reality of what I already knew was confirmed, something clicked, and I realized how very foolish my actions were. I found myself wishing, not for the first time, for a really big gun. I could have been followed. I probably _was_ followed. Nobody knows that I came here alone, miles from civilization, with no way to reach anyone by phone.

Suddenly, I was hyper aware of every sound outside and in. I tensed at every click or creak, and cursed myself for not being able to keep my breathing under control. I leaned forward wiping my sweaty palms down the front of my pants. I tried taking deep breaths to calm down. I almost convinced myself that I could do this. I could pull myself together, stop crying, get a grip.

That is when I heard the car. It was actually the crunching of gravel under tires that I heard, which meant that it was a fair distance away, as I could not yet hear the sound of the actual car. I stopped breathing, and all I could hear was the sound of the blood pulsing through my veins. I couldn't move or even think. My thoughts were a jumble of mechanical instructions - to breath and to move my legs and to hide, and emotional demands - to stop being such a wreck and pull myself together. None of it had any meaning to me and it was instinct that took over.

I heard the car nearing the drive and started to back up. I backed myself into the wall furthest away from the door. Luckily, the wall was there, because my legs lost their ability to support me. I slid down the wall, until my chin was resting on my knees, and I stayed like that. I couldn't see the door because it was blocked by the sofa, but it didn't matter. I couldn't have ran if the devil himself walked through the door.

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**Sorry. I know cliffies are bad...but in a good way, right? It's time for a POV change, and that means time for a new chapter. It should be up tomorrow.**

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	12. Chapter 12

**I know I am soooooo dragging my feet on my updates. I promise I will finish it. I just can't seem to find the time to properly focus my attention on it. Maybe it's because I've gone soooooo long without a new episode. Yes... I am whining now.**

..........

I was half pissed and half scared that she had run off with my truck, and left me to chase her down with my assistant's bucket of bolts that she calls a car. When I saw my truck sitting there with the door wide open, and the engine running, I moved past it curiously, noticing that she was no where to be seen.

I hurried across the porch, and cautiously opened the door, yelling to make my presence known. "Bren? Why the hell didn't you tell me you were leaving?" I closed the door behind me, and stood looking around the seemingly empty house. Maybe she decided to take a walk, or go down to the lake. I started to go back outside and look around when I heard something, a muffled sob followed by a shuffling sound.

I followed the sound and saw her scooting along the wall, toward the far corner of the room. She saw me, and let loose the breath she had been holding with a whoosh. I took a few steps closer to her, and she kept scooting away from me. "Temperance, what's going on?" She was sobbing quietly, trying to catch her breath. I stopped, and gave her some space. I've seen her like this before, and I was aware of what it takes to put her in this state. "Was somebody here?"

She shook her head. I hazarded another few steps in her direction, and she looked up at me with contempt in her eyes, stopping me in my tracks. "You need to leave." Her voice was shaky, but her message was clear.

"What? Are you serious?" I was truly confused. "Tell me what's wrong. I'm not leaving you like this."

"I don't want you near me right now." She wiped the back of her hand across her face, smudging trails of tears and mascara across her cheek. She wrapped her arms around her legs, hugging them to her tightly.

I went to her, and knelt down in front of her. I didn't realize the magnitude of my mistake until I felt the sting of her hand connecting with my face. I didn't move right away, and she brought her hand up to slap me again. I grabbed her wrist. "What the hell? What did I do? I haven't seen you like this since. . ."

"Since when? Since your guilt forced you to stick around and cheer me on through the bad times? Don't delude yourself into thinking this is about you. This has nothing to do with you." She struggled to free her hand, but I held on to her. She wasn't making any sense to me. "Let go of me and get out!" She was struggling against me, pulling and scratching at my hand with her free one.

"Will you just calm down? This sure seems like it has something to do with me." I grabbed her other hand and held her securely.

"You slept with her, and you came back to me like nothing ever happened." She took a long shaky breath. "That whole time, you never mentioned it once. You made me feel so guilty for leaving you, but you ended us long before our troubles ever started. You made yourself out to be the selfless crusader that kept picking me up and dusting me off no matter how pathetic things got or how little you were getting in return. You didn't do it out of love, you did it out of guilt. You were nothing but a selfish bastard."

She jerked her wrists out of my grasp as I knelt there in front of her in shock, and she slapped me again. I was reeling from the truths she listed, and how misconstrued everything had become. "You're right. Liv and I had sex, one time. It was a mistake. . . a huge mistake. I still loved you. Nothing ever changed that. . . ."

"Just get out. . ."

I put my hands on her shoulders. "Everything I ever did with you, or for you, was out of love. . . nothing else." She shoved my hands away and screamed at me to leave, but I couldn't do it. I had a feeling if I did, I would never get the chance to explain, but she wasn't interested in any form of explanation. I could also tell that something else was going on. She was scared. I recognized it. I was familiar with it and how she tried to hide it. Whatever had her cowering in the corner didn't have anything to do with me. She pushed me away again, yelling at me that she didn't want me there.

The door slammed closed, and we both jumped. Brennan paled, but never looked up to see who it was. "Did I miss something?" Booth looked at Brennan, and then back at me, lines of worry etched on his forehead. "What's going on?"

.........

I had spent the morning talking to a young deputy at the sheriff's station, who turned out to be very helpful. He had grown up on the lake, not far from Blake's cabin. He knew Blake and he remembered Bones. He remembered the night she was attacked. He was also very familiar with the rumors that were the talk of the town, the rumors that must have had a lot of truth to them, judging from the conversation he just witnessed between Blake and Bones.

The sheriff's deputy told me that Olivia bragged about she and Blake hooking up on the last stop of his tour. Apparently, the talk died out pretty quickly because nothing ever came of it. A few weeks later, the attack took place, and everybody had something new to talk about.

I walked calmly to the two of them, ignoring the crackling of igniting emotions, and the fact that Bones was shaking and crying and clearly scared to death about something. I yanked Blake up by the back of his shirt, and tossed him onto the couch, pointing to him. "You have some explaining to do. You weren't supposed to let her out of your sight. She was supposed to stay with you, where there was security, cameras, people. She was _not_ supposed to be driving around alone out in no man's land, and she was _not_ supposed to end up here alone, out in the middle of nowhere. You screwed up."

How I was remaining calm was a mystery to me. This was too much. I turned to Bones, expecting her to take some kind of offence at my assumption that Blake was in charge of her safety. She was still very much out of it, and didn't offer up the resistance I was prepared for. "I saw the car, at the turn. I'm assuming you saw more than a car."

She nodded, looking up at me for the first time. "At the studio, in the garage. I tried to call you, but there was no cell service. I assumed you would be here. . ."

Suddenly, I realized that my anger was gone, and all that was left was relief. The anger I was feeling was born out of sheer panic. The second I saw the unfamiliar car parked on the road, I was terrified, and it was only multiplied when I saw the truck running with the door open in the drive. All of the unwanted images flooded back into my mind, and I realized what an idiot I was for placing her safety into another person's hands, the same hands that let the unspeakable happen once before. I knew it was unfair to put the blame on him, but the facts spoke for themselves. He was there, and he could not keep her safe.

"I am sorry. This wasn't supposed to happen. This is what I was afraid of." I held out my hand for her to take, and she surprised me be accepting it. I pulled her up, and she collapsed against me, wrapping her arms around my neck, and resting her forehead against my shoulder. I could feel her rapid heartbeat pounding against my chest, and I felt it slow as I held her.

After a short period of time, she pulled back and found my hands with hers. She whispered that she was fine. "If this is what you were afraid of, you don't have a very good imagination, because this is not even close to what I was afraid of."

"Me either." I watched her for a long time, and she did seem fine. I was relieved for now, but I also knew that if we didn't end this soon, it would only be the first of many close calls.


	13. Chapter 13

Blake had excused himself, and took refuge out on the front porch. I walked past him without so much as a look in his direction. "I'm going to check out the car I passed up on the road, then I'm going to go find out what the hell has been going on here for the past five years. Stay here, and don't leave her alone, even if she threatens to shoot you. I'll be back in an hour."

He actually had the audacity to follow me to my car. "I don't know what you heard, but whatever it is, you don't know the whole story. I can explain."

"I doubt it. I called the sheriff, and they are sending out a couple cars. Just stay here, and leave her be. She wants to be alone. I left my gun for her, and she's a pretty good shot, so I would take my advice if I were you. I wasn't kidding about her shooting you."

I left him there in the driveway, thinking to myself that it wasn't very often that my first impression of people is wrong, but I was way off on Blake. Contrary to how much I really wanted to hate him before even meeting him, I couldn't help liking the guy. He seemed sincere, honest, and trustworthy -- a responsible guy that tried to do the right thing in a losing situation. Accepting that I was wrong about him, there was one more thing I had to know. I turned back to him, deciding I needed to hear something face to face.

"Did you know that the two thugs that attacked you and Bones were on your tour manager girlfriend's payroll?"

"Olivia?" He laughed at first, and then looked at me curiously, wondering where the punch line was. He didn't believe me, or he was a very good actor.

"Yes, you know, Olivia, the tour manager you cheated on your fiance with, just a couple weeks before she was attacked?"

He looked me in the eye, and told me I was wrong, that there must be some other explanation. He seemed more hopeful than confident about his declaration.

I told him I was about to find out.

* * *

I introduced myself, and Olivia immediately invited me in to her spacious renovated loft condo with tons of windows and an amazing view. The place was showy, glitzy, and pretentious -- everything Blake appeared not to be in the few times I had spoken to him, and from the insight into his character offered by Angela and Bones.

She immediately made the connection. She wrapped her arm around mine, and led me into her living room. "I've heard all about you. I can't say I'm sorry that Bren has set her sights on another guy, especially with all the business Blake has in New York and DC these days." She gave me the once over, not bother being discreet about checking me out. "Bren always did pick all the best ones."

"You never liked her much."

"It's not that I didn't like her. She is brilliant. The whole time she was with Blake, she steered clear of all things involved with his rising popularity. She wanted him to herself when he was home, and she distanced herself from the business when he was gone. She just never belonged here, and she was a distraction to Blake. He worked so hard to get where he is . . ." She batted her eyelids, and accentuated her already thick southern drawl.

"And to get you where you are."

"Blake loved . . . loves what he does. Back then, I couldn't get him to commit to anything. He didn't want to be away too long, or too far, or on her birthday, or their anniversary. . . He had his dream within arms reach, but he was more committed to her than to grabbing his dream."

"It turns out, in the end, he wasn't so committed after all."

She laughed. She didn't seem to harbor any guilt about her blatant ploy to snatch herself a piece of Blake for herself. "That was surprisingly easy. He was always worried about losing her. He knew they were on dramatically different paths. It was just a matter of time before it fell apart for them. He knew it, and I knew it, but I couldn't wait that long for it to happen."

"So you thought you would hurry things along."

"A few drinks. A sympathetic ear. It was much easier than I thought. I admit his heart really wasn't in it, but that's not what I was looking for back then."

"You figured he would feel guilty, confess everything to her, and she would pack up and start a new life, leaving his undivided attention to you and his career."

"Sure, why not? I thought, if she realizes what his life will be like, she won't want it."

"But you overdid it. Were you afraid that his infidelity wouldn't be enough to send her on her way? I don't understand where the two thugs came into play. Didn't you already have what you wanted?"

She raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow, obviously trying to decide if he was calling her bluff. I layed her financial records in front of her, along with copies of checks made out to two familiar names.

She finally stopped batting her eyelashes, and I started to detect a tremor in her southern drawl. "I payed them to follow her around when he was gone. I thought maybe I could dig up some dirt on her, something to make Blake lose interest. I didn't realize it was possible for anyone to be that boring. She worked on her paper constantly, went to the university occasionally, met up with a girlfriend of hers a few times. It was nothing I could use. I was desperate at that point. Blake was not interested in my advances. . . drunk or sober."

"So you told them to step up the intimidation a little, and it got out of control."

"Yes! I was so afraid nobody would understand." She seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. "It was not my fault. I just wanted them to scare her . . . break windows, make threatening phone calls, follow her."

I found my anger and frustration at the situation increasing to an unbearable level. The sheer stupidity of the events that led up to the night that could have ended Bones' life. The night that changed her life, and plagued her with horrible memories, nightmares, and fears, all stemmed from the most predictable of motives -- money and sex.

"After that night with Blake, I tried to call them off. I really did try. It just wasn't necessary after that night. I already had what I wanted. I never wanted her, or Blake, to get hurt, but one of them took an interest in her."

"He _raped_ her, because you told him, because you _paid_ him, to terrorize her. You wanted Blake all to yourself, and on the surface it looks like it worked out for you, but you didn't get exactly what you wanted, did you? He's not the same person he was back then. Besides him still being in love with Brennan, you nearly got him killed, and he didn't work for months."

"A year. He took off a year, in which his career, and mine, tanked."

"How does it feel to know that he would drop you in a second if Brennan gave him any indication that she would want him back in her life? You are not very good at this."

"I'm not? Look at my career, and his. He is hotter than ever. Women love their country music with a side of angst. He wrote some of the most beautiful, moving lyrics during that year he took off. His fans ate it up."

"That's great for Blake, and his fans, but you are going to have to start listening to his CD's in prison. Maybe you could take up writing, maybe something poignant and moving about orange clothing and prison food."

"I won't be going to prison, Agent Booth. I had already cut ties with them. I did not have any control over what they did, or didn't do, to Dr. Brennan.

"Why are they back? Is it a coincidence that the photographs started coming so soon after Blake made his visit to DC? Were you feeling insecure again? What was the point of reminding everybody of what happened? You got away with it. Why not let things fade away? Were things not going well with you and Blake?"

"I told him I loved him, and wanted us to move in together. He told me he wasn't ready. I told him to get ready, to figure out what he wants. That's when his 'business partners' decided he needed to expand eastward, first stop Washington DC, and the lovely Dr. Brennan.

* * *

Blake didn't bother going back inside. He didn't need to stir up any more problems with Bren. He didn't want to answer any more questions about the mistakes he made with Olivia. He had been asking himself over and over, and he didn't have any answers.

"Hey." She walked down to the lake, and found him sitting in the small rowboat tied to the dock. "I was wondering where you had gone. I figured Booth would put you on watch duty."

"He did. I figured with the gun, and the entire sheriff's department in the front yard, my presence really didn't matter." She didn't say anything, but she walked to the end of the dock, and asked permission to come aboard. He had his legs stretched across the two seats in front of him, but he folded them in front of him, and gave her a hand coming on board. She sat facing him, leaving an empty seat between them.

"You really screwed up."

"That I did . . . worse than I ever could have imagined. I am still trying to wrap my mind around the fact that my bad choices started all this. I am so sorry. I know that doesn't mean anything now."

"I am not going to let it ruin the good memories I have of us. Those are mine to keep. Whatever you and Olivia need to do to justify or rationalize what happened, and what your relationship is based on, is your business. I don't need to hear the excuses or explanations."

"I need to know if you believe me, if you believe that I didn't know what she was up to."

"Surprisingly, what you need, or what you can or can not live with, is of little importance to me." She stood up, ready to climb out of the boat. "I came here to let you know that Booth called. It's finally over. The police picked up both of them, as well as Olivia. They are all being brought in for questioning. None of them were very intelligent, so it shouldn't be hard to put a case together on them."

Blake just shook his head, unable to look at her. She looked towards the house, and saw making his way through the throng of sheriff's deputies and concerned neighbors. She stepped back on the dock, and waved her hand. Booth caught site of the distant motion, changing his course to her direction. She turned her attention back briefly to Blake. "You loved me once. I don't doubt that, even after everything that's happened."

"Once? A part of me has always loved you. I didn't want to lose you back then, and every time I see you, I realize that I still don't. I've accepted that you have moved on, and like I keep saying, I am happy for you. I think I have to keep saying it to remind myself that Booth is who you belong with. If you are happy, and I can see that you are, then I can live with it."

* * *

**I promised everyone a year ago, when I started writing Thunder, that I would get rid of Blake. Well, he's finally out of the picture. I may have turned him into a jerk, but I still like him. *sniff* **

**It has become my own personal mission to finish this story. ****One more chapter left . . . just to wrap things up nicely.**


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